The Sun Feels Closer in Texas
by DawnGyocry
Summary: In retrospect, maybe moving from Texas to go to college in Minnesota wasn't the greatest idea. Maybe moving to an apartment off campus, completely alone, when you're balls deep in crippling grief was an even worse idea. But you've never exactly been known for your great forward thinking skills. Humanstuck. Davekat.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: All right, I'm finally back! It's been nearly a year since I posted anything. I've been wrestling with an idea for a DirkKat fic for well over a year now, and I have it started a bit, but I've been having writer's block with it like no one's business. But I was suddenly struck with an idea for another DaveKat fic, and I figured, hey, Dave is easy for me to write. Maybe getting this story out will get me back into the swing of writing so I'll be prepared to tackle the nightmare that is writing Dirk, ahah.**

 **As I did with Variation Modification (aka Sugar and Spice), what I post on FFnet will be my drafts, pretty much hot off the press as I write them. It provides me with a way to keep myself motivated, and I know there are people who prefer frequent small updates rather than long updates that are few and far between. As always, once the fic is entirely completed, the more thoroughly edited, and all around better version will be posted to my A03 account.**

 **This fic is tentatively rated T, though it is subject to change. It's possible the rating may go up in later chapters. Or perhaps it won't. I've been on the fence trying to decide if I should list it as T or M. For now, the only real issue will be language. But hey. This is Dave and Karkat we're talking about. Sailor mouths are pretty much a requirement.**

 **Thanks to all of you who stuck around, and thanks to anyone new who's taking the time to read! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **-** ectoBiologist **[EB]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

EB: hey dave!  
EB: i guess you're not at your computer hehe.  
EB: but i guess you can read this later.  
EB: i wanted to wish you luck! you've gotta let me know if everyone there is as nice as they say. :B  
EB: pester me later, okay dude?

 **-** gardenGnostic **[GG]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

GG: dave!  
GG: youve gotta let me know when your plane lands! :D  
GG: and snow! oh my god you *have* to let me know if theres snow there :DDD  
GG: ive never seen snow and you havent either, right? youve gotta send me pictures!  
GG: maybe august is a bit early? i have no idea :p  
GG: but anyway im so excited for you! youll have so much fun! **  
**

 **-** tentacleTherapist **[TT]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

TT: Hello, Dave.  
TT: I wanted to wish you luck. I'll be heading out to my own University tomorrow, myself.  
TT: That being said, Mother wanted me to let you know you can give her a call whenever you'd like, and of course I'm always willing to lend an ear.  
TT: Don't terrorize the locals too much. Lord knows I've experienced firsthand how traumatic your rapping can be.

 **-** ectoBiologist **[EB]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

EB: dude! where are you? i want to know how things are going!  
EB: class started this week for me. i'm not so sure how i feel about these wacky professors, but it's cool that i get to take so many bio classes right off the bat!  
EB: blugh, man. you gotta talk to me!

 **-** tentacleTherapist **[TT]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

TT: It's been a while, Dave. How are things? Did you settle into your apartment all right?

 **-** gardenGnostic **[GG]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

GG: daaaaave :/  
GG: where are you? john and rose said you arent answering them!  
GG: you better talk to me soon, mister! :T

 **-** tipsyGnostalgic **[TG]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

TG: hi hun!  
TG: i got a call from ur university  
TG: they were askin if u were still planning on attending and if finacncial aid was still needed  
TG: they said you havent shown up for class since the first day. are u oaky?  
TG: okay*  
TG: u know u can give auntie ro-lal a call whenever!  
TG: i love ya kiddo!

 **-** ectoBiologist **[EB]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

EB: hey, man  
EB: did you wanna talk? i'm getting kind of worried  
EB: you know i'm here for you, right?

 **-** tentacleTherapist **[TT]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

TT: Dave.  
TT: Mother and I are getting worried.  
TT: If you need, Mother can come out and visit you. Of course, you're always welcome to visit our home as well.  
TT: Though I do think it would be best if you do try to go to school first. I know you had looked forward to it, and your brother would have wanted you to go for your dream. It will give you the opportunity to get on your own feet.  
TT: It's only been a couple weeks since class started. It'll be a little hard to catch up, but it's still definitely doable.  
TT: But your wellbeing comes first.  
TT: If you truly don't think school is the best option right now, I want you to know that we support you, and you can always try again another semester.  
TT: Please don't shut us out, Dave. Please answer our phone calls. We just want to help.

 **-** gardenGnostic **[GG]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

GG: dave, please please talk to us :(((  
GG: im really worried about you  
GG: if you cant talk to us, can you promise me youll talk to someone there?  
GG: rose says theres grief councilors you can talk to  
GG: bro would be sad if you let yourself get sick. you know hed want you to be happy  
GG: we all want you to be happy  
GG: please  
GG: if you wont talk to us, please just let us know youre okay were really worried

 **-** turntechGodhead **[TG]** is an idle chum! **–-**


	2. Chapter 2

Your phone dings on your desk.

You think you've been getting more messages lately. Maybe. Days have been blending into each other oddly. You keep all the lights in your apartment on, always, and your blinds down. It gets hard to tell when it's daytime or nighttime. Not leaving your bed aside from pissing and the occasional handful of Doritos hasn't done much for your way of keeping time, either.

You roll over and face the wall. It's stupidly hot. You thought it was supposed to be _cold_ in this god forsaken state. You'd brushed off the lack of AC in the apartment when you were signing the lease. Couldn't be anywhere near as hot as Texas, right?

But fuck you sideways. You might be used to 90 degree temperatures, but the _humidity_ here is something else. Has you stripped down to your boxers, hair sticking to your forehead. You should probably take a shower. But. You don't really feel like it. You took one yesterday, anyway. You think. Maybe it was a few days ago.

When your phone starts ringing, you heave a breath from your nose, open your eyes. You stare blankly at the wall and let it ring.

You didn't realize your muscles were tight until they relax once the ringing stops. If it's important, whoever it is can leave a message. You've got to check your Pesterchum anyway. It's been a while since you checked it. Too long. That much you know. Jade is going to kick your ass once you get around to getting back to everyone.

The phone starts ringing again. You pinch your lips and wait it out.

This time it does go over to voicemail. You wish your phone was on silent so you didn't have to listen to the voicemail recording live. Your stomach knots up when you recognize the voice.

"Dave, honey…It's Aunt Roxy. Rosie told me she still can't get ahold of you. I'm worried sick. I'm going to come out and see you, okay? I can take time away from the Lab. If I don't hear from you by tomorrow, I'm buying a plane ticket. I can be there in two days." There's a pause, and you think maybe your heart has frozen. "We love you, sweetie," she finishes, an edge to her voice and you can tell she wants to say more, but she won't. The phone clicks as she hangs up.

Shit. Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

 _No_. You don't want her to come out here. You pitch up in your bed and stare wide eyed at the phone sitting on your dusty desk.

Your brain is lurching, trying to catch up. God, she can't come here. You don't want any of them here. Part of the reason you decided to come here despite everything was because no one else would be around. It won't feel like anything's wrong because everything will be new.

And it can't be wrong if there wasn't a _right_ before it.

You stagger over to your desk, nearly tripping in the sheets tangled between your legs. Your hand shoots for your phone but freezes above it.

Goddamnit, what are you supposed to say? You don't want to talk to her. Don't want to hear all that pity in her voice. She won't yell at you, but you wish she would. That would be easier. But the more you put off talking to her, to any of them, the harder it gets to actually do it.

You pick up your phone and stare dumbly down at the screen. September 5th already. Christ. You've missed a good two and a half weeks of class.

You didn't exactly plan on skipping out on school. If that was your plan you would've stayed bumming off Rose and her mom. And you did show up for the first day of each of your classes.

But there was something about those first days. You'd sat wedged by the wall as the professors went over syllabi and you could swear something invisible was forcing its way through your mouth, down your throat to crush your lungs.

It was like reality came back down on you. Everything had sort of settled into a steady monotone over the summer. Nothing felt real. But it did feel secure.

But sitting in those ridiculous, too small desk chairs, it's like something unlocked in your head, and then all you could think about is how this is happening, this is _happening_. Time is moving, life is actually trying to go on, but you don't want it to.

You'd gotten back to your apartment that night and had immediately thrown up all the bland campus food you'd eaten. Your brain was frantically racing, faster than it had since –

It had kept you up all night. So when you missed class that next day, it was because you'd honestly overslept. And the next day you skipped on purpose figuring it didn't hurt to miss since it was a different set of classes. And then the weekend rolled into the next week.

But by then you'd shut down. Either your brain was moving too fast, too loud, or it wasn't working at all. It was easier to sleep through it.

You chew on the inside of your cheek and sink down into your desk chair. Your legs feel shaky, but you think maybe you're just too hungry. You glance at the stale bag of Doritos next to your laptop. How many bags did you go through in two weeks? Three? Not many.

Jesus, you have to call her. You suck in a breath and press Roxy's speed dial before you can wuss out. She picks up halfway through the first ring.

"Davie!" she exclaims, voice high and breathy. "Oh my god, you got back to me! How are you, are you alright? Where have you been? Oh, sweetie, I was so worried!"

"Hey, Rox," you say, grimacing. Your voice is too dry. Reedy. "Sorry I didn't call sooner. Lost track of time."

"Oh, have you been out?" she asks. Too cheery, fake.

"Uh… Yeah," you lie dumbly.

"Good to hear!" she says and you feel your gut curl in guilt. "So, um, how's school? I heard from the university that you haven't been showing up. Everything okay?"

Jesus, what are you even supposed to say? You wish you were on Pesterchum. It's so much easier to bullshit your way through things when you don't actually have to worry about talking.

Roxy takes your hesitation as a reason to keep going. "Because it's okay if it's not."

You swallow. "Don't worry about it. I was just," you glance over at your unfixed bed, "being stupid. Fuckin' around, y'know? I'll go back to class tomorrow."

She makes a skeptical noise. "Well, okay. But make sure you _call_ me. Like, at least text. If I don't hear from you again I _will_ come down and whip you into gear myself."

"Heh. Fair enough."

"Alright. I'm gunna let you go then," she says. "I've gotta cancel my order on that plane ticket before it finishes going through."

"Okay. Sorry for makin' you worry," you say, resisting the urge to sigh. You pinch the bridge of your nose instead.

"No problem, hun." You're about to say goodbye before she adds, "And go see a campus grief councilor. At least to have them fill out an absentee slip so you can catch up on your classes. I love ya, kiddo. Take care!"

She hangs up before you have a chance to protest.

* * *

\- turntechGodhead **[TG]** opened a memo! –-

TG: yo guys sorry for takin so long to get back to you

\- gardenGnostic **[GG]** joined memo **[untitled memo]** – **-**

GG: dave!  
GG: where were you, you jerk!  
GG: i should fly over myself and kick your butt for ignoring us D: !

\- tentacleTherapist **[TT]** joined memo **[untitled memo]** –-

\- ectoBiologist **[EB]** joined memo **[untitled memo]** –-

TT: I am inclined to agree with Jade.  
TT: That said, it's good to finally hear from you.  
EB: dude! hey!  
EB: yeah man, where've you been?  
TG: sorry guys  
TG: had my hands full here  
GG: with what? rose said you havent even been going to school :/  
EB: yeah dude. you should have had SOME time to get back to us  
TG: hold up whats up with all the hostility youre makin a man feel so unloved  
TG: romantics around the world are shedding mammoth tears for the lack of love all up in this chat  
TT: It must be an incredible loss to them. How will such loving hearts ever recover?  
TG: see rose gets it  
GG: :/  
EB: whatever you dork  
EB: but really what's been up with you?  
EB: everything okay?  
GG: you had us so worried! :(  
TG: psh yall worry way too much  
TG: ive just been busy  
TT: With?  
TG: yknow  
TG: stuff  
TG: its freshmen year of college this is the time to fuck off from school and go get smashed at parties  
TG: so many parties you have no idea ive gotten close to bringing one of those shitty old swords i have sitting around just to ward off all those sorority girls  
GG: :O!  
EB: wow. i can't even imagine how *anyone* could resist those sexy shades :B  
TG: exactly see egbert this is your own fault youve enabled me via the gifting of such ridiculously attractive eyewear  
GG: youd better send me proof!  
GG: i need to have pictures of a drunk dave within the next 24 hours :p  
TG: deal  
TT: I would love to have any extras. I'm sure they would prove to be very educational.  
TG: in your dreams lalonde  
TG: but im gunna go guys  
TG: so much shit to catch up on im going to drown in homework and textbooks  
TG: ill die a tragic death of papercuts itll be all over the news  
EB: haha. whatever, dude.  
GG: youd better pester me tomorrow!  
TT: I'd like to keep in touch as well.  
TG: yeah sure thing guys  
EB: well see you then!  
GG: bye! :D  
TT: I'll talk to you soon.

\- turntechGodhead **[TG]** has closed memo **[untitled memo]** –-

\- tentacleTherapist **[TT]** began pestering turntechGodhead **[TG]** –-

TT: You're a terrible liar, Dave.

\- tentacleTherapist **[TT]** ceased pestering turntechGodhead **[TG]** –-


	3. Chapter 3

**Well these updates are going slower than anticipated, whoops. Not gunna lie, my only excuse was E3. My hype for Final Fantasy and Kingdom Hearts was so real it was difficult to concentrate on Homestuck. I spent the better part of two weeks doing nothing by watching Let's Plays of FFXV's demo and watching reveal reaction videos to FF7: Remake and KH3. Square-Enix was my first Fandom, and it still probably means the most to me, so I let myself indulge my hype ;)**

 **BUT my excitement over the Strider Brothers' awkward reunion gave me some motivation for this fic back, haha. Not to mention I'm going to participate in the July Nanowrimo. I'll be working on an Original Story during it as well as this fic, so hopefully updates will be quick next month! I suppose it largely depends on which story is hitting me with more inspiration. Regardless, 50k in one month should be promising!**

 **Wish me luck!**

* * *

First day back is a bitch.

You actually get up before noon in order to get down to the student resource center before classes. You spend a good ten minutes standing in front of the counseling center door, before feeling like an absolute moron and end up leaving without actually going in.

You'll use the first day back to see how far behind you are. Yeah. That's a better idea anyway. Better to test the waters before deciding you need floaties. For all you know you're only jumping into a puddle.

It takes you about ten minutes into your first class to realize you've just jumped into Mariana's fucking Trench.

Son of a dick. You only missed 5 sessions for each class; you figured that'd be like missing only a week, then. Like, a high school week where you have class every day. Instead you find yourself awkwardly folded over your desk in the back, doing your best to radiate 'don't notice me' vibes at the prof. You can actually hear the college gods laughing at you.

When the class is over, you lean over to the girl next to you, smile all charming-like, and ask what's been going on in the class these past couple weeks. She gives you the most unimpressed look you've ever had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of, tells you to check the syllabus or the class website, and leaves, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like 'spoiled rich freshmen.'

You vow to look over all your syllabi when you get back to your apartment and refrain from asking any more attractive classmates for the rest of the day.

When you get back to your apartment, you end up spending the rest of the night wanting to rip your hair out over how much you have to catch up on. You attempt, with varying amounts of failure, to complete what homework you can figure out from your textbooks. Luckily most of your shit is due online, but you're already resigning yourself to doing nothing but homework in your free time for at least a week solid. Christ.

Second day back you actually go into the councilors' office. You don't want to actually talk to anyone. But if you can weasel a note giving you time to catch up on homework you'll call it a success.

But because life loves you so much, the receptionist _insists_ you must have at least one session with the grief councilor before any accommodations can be given. You grind your jaw the entire hour you have to sit in that tiny little office on that tiny little chair (and what the hell, on tv, all those therapy chairs looked so cushy. This is no better than the waiting room chairs.), and try to keep your face as emotionless as you can while the councilor lady says all these lines to you that you _know_ she's probably said to a thousand other people at one point or another. It's not like it means anything.

She asks you all these little questions like, 'how are you eating, do you need support, have you made friends yet,' and all they really serve to do is make you feel a hell of a lot like a second grader. But you play along, directing all conversation away from actually talking about –

You play along enough to get the goddamn absence excuse note and leave the office as fast as you can without seeming like you're running away.

You kill the rest of the hour before class in the student commons lamenting every particle of existence.

Luckily you've only got one class today. And it's the only one you have this semester that is actually relevant to your major, so it ought to be more enjoyable than your classes yesterday.

The class is a scriptwriting class held in this little room adjunct to the University's theater. It's only about five minutes into class that you realize you're _really_ screwed this time. The other classes you were just behind on homework. But all your classmates split off into groups as soon as the professor arrived to work on projects that apparently started the second week of class.

You hover over a few random groups, long enough to grasp you've landed yourself in a vat of Satan's piss, before you _stride_ like a confident motherfucker over to the professor (anyone who describes it as an awkward shuffle tells nothing but lies and slander). Gotta ask the man in charge how fucked you really are.

The prof is talking to some other student when you sidle up over to him. You lean against one of the desks and wait for them to finish talking.

"I just don't see how this is _relevant_ ," the student says, face pulled into a tight scowl. His dark hair is a mess, looks like he just woke up. Matches the dark rings under his eyes. The guy needs some serious caffeine in him. "I've already _done_ this shit a thousand times."

The professor sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Right. But if you don't want to come up with your own project, what else am I supposed to assign you?"

"Anything else! Something I haven't been doing since I was a thumb sucking _freshman!"_

"Which goes back to coming up with your own project, then," the professor says, the patience in his voice thin. "I get that's not one hundred percent what you were aiming for with this credit, but part of being a professional is you'll get commissioned to do projects you don't want to do. It'll get you practice in other areas."

The student's scowl depends, nose wrinkling, lip curling up to expose a few crooked teeth. "Right."

"Just think it over, kiddo," the professor says. He glances over to where you're leaning, doing your best to stare impassively at the wall opposite of them. "Look, I think someone else here wants to talk to me. Get back to me by tomorrow, alright? You're one of my best students. We'll figure something out."

"Fine." The word is short, tense as the student's face as he turns away. He stops by a desk only long enough to grab a backpack off the ground before heatedly leaving the room, closing the door behind him with more force than all that necessary. Yeesh. The guy must have woken up with a crab clamped on his dick. Would explain the lack of sleep he's clearly had.

The professor shakes his head one last time before turning to smile at you. "Sorry about that," he says. "Karkat's always had a bit of a temper."

You dip your head in acknowledgement. "S'cool." You pause. "He an older student then?"

The professor nods absently. "Hmm, yeah. One of my grad students. He's taking an independent study with me this semester." He shakes his head briefly. "Anyway. What can I help you with, Mr…."

"Strider. Dave Strider."

The professor's eyebrows twist before clearing up in understanding. "Ah. Right. Didn't think you'd show up again, honestly. Thought I'd have to drop you from the roster."

"Right. About that." You reach into your bag and hand him the note you'd snagged from the councilor, hand it do him.

His lips thin and he lets out a small hum as he looks over it. "All right. Not gunna lie to ya, kiddo, it's going to be a challenge to get you caught up."

"Yeah, I kinda figured," you say, reaching a hand out to take the note back. Watching him stare at it makes your stomach curl.

He hands it back and crosses his arms thoughtfully. "Tell ya what, I'll shoot you an email tonight about it. For now, go ahead and work on catching up in your other classes – there's not a whole lot I can have you do here right now."

Your shoulders relax. "Aight. Sounds good." You reach down to shrug your bag back over your shoulders. You're about to turn to leave when the professor reaches a hand out to catch your arm.

"And Dave," he says, catching your eyes through your shades. He nods his head towards the note you shoved in your bag. "I just want to make sure. Are you doing all right?"

You jaw tenses, you try not to let it show. Keep your face perfectly blank.

"Yeah," you say. "I'm fine."

He keeps you held with his eyes for a few brief moments before he nods and lets you go.


	4. Chapter 4

**All right, just gunna have so bring this up before going back into the story. That recent upd8 in canon threw a bit of a wrench in what I had planned for this fic, ahah. Don't get me wrong, I thought it was a _fantastic_ upd8. Honestly, Bro being an abusive guardian was something I've been wondering about for quite a while, so that upd8 didn't really come as a surprise to me. And honestly, I'm in love with how Hussie handled the whole thing. **

**But, re: this fic. For it to work, I'll unfortunately going to have to write this under the operation of adopting Fanon Bro. I love Fanon Bro, and as much as I'm really happy with the direction Hussie took Bro and Dave's relationship in canon, I'm going to miss the fanon version of things (ie, Bro being loving despite not having the best parenting practices). And for this fic to make much sense, it's that version of him that I'll have to stick with for this story.**

 **Which, I guess, I don't have too much a problem with. I think it's fine to have Fanon variations on things. Plus, considering this is a Normal Human AU, I don't think Bro would be _quite_ so messed up, considering he didn't have a possessed puppet fucking with his head lol. **

**Anyway. I figured it would be something I should mention before continuing in, since I always try to keep things in character, and I know this will be a story that won't fully be doing that anymore. Although, I do think character's personalities are inclined to deviate from canon in fics, since their circumstances are different, and will play a part in how they act. Hell, look at how different the personalities vary between different timeline versions of the same characters within Homestuck canon!**

 **But enough of my rambling.**

* * *

You call Roxy that night like you promised.

She's ecstatic in a way that makes you feel horrible. Makes you realize how shitty you were being by making her worry. By making everyone worry.

Regardless, you keep the call short. Mention the load of homework you have to catch up on as a reason. Before letting you go, she recommends dropping one of your courses so you'll have a better time catching up. After a short moment of considering, you agree that's probably the best thing to do. You hang and up resolve to drop it first thing before class tomorrow.

You make a few half-hearted attempts at your homework before giving up. You haven't got half a clue what you're doing. Might as well wait until tomorrow to see what the professors say when you give them your absence note. Maybe they'll let you off the hook for some of it anyway.

Instead, you pull out a sketchbook and try to block out some thumbnails for Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff.

Twenty minutes later your capped pen is still tap, tap, tapping the infuriatingly blank page. The unmarred white paper stares up at you, your jaw working from side to side, while your brain stays unhelpfully empty. You can't even work up the desire to doodle Sweet Bro's shitty face.

You keep doing this. Attempting to get something down, get SBHAJ back up and running again. But ever since…ever since you moved away from Texas, you haven't been able to produce _anything_. It's so fucking ridiculous. You heave a heavy breath through your nose and lean back in your chair, push your sketchbook away. Maybe you should just give it up.

Your phone pings an email alert at you. Glad for a distraction, you open it right away. It's a short message from your Scriptwriting prof. Says he'd like to talk to you in his office tomorrow about catching up in his class. You reply right away saying you'll be there and set your phone back on your desk.

Maybe you should just Pester John for a while? Or Jade. Hell, maybe even Rose. So long as she doesn't try to play therapist on you again.

…Or maybe you'll just go to bed.

You glance at the clock on your laptop. Only 8 o'clock. Still… You consider the Pesterchum icon at the bottom of your desktop.

You close your laptop and head to bed.

* * *

The next day is busy as hell between dropping that class and talking to each of your professors about the time you missed. You got anywhere from indifference, to irritation, to sympathy from them. One waved off all the homework you missed and is letting you start fresh, one gave you a half-way compromise, and the last insisted you get all the work you missed turned in, but at least you won't lose points for it being late.

You jokingly complained to a random fellow student about all the reading that you had to catch up on, but he just shrugged and admitted he hadn't even bothered to read any of it. The few students who overheard all agreed. You took this as a sign that it would be perfectly alright if you continue to let you textbooks collect dust. Though you feel a tad miffed you dropped so much money on them.

After your last class you make your way over to your scriptwriting professor's office. You have to wait nearly a half hour dicking around on your phone before he gets there.

When he does show up, he's got that grumpy student from yesterday with him. Karl? Or something. It was weirder than that. But what is he here for? Did you get the meeting time wrong?

"Hey, Dave," your professor says pleasantly. "Sorry I'm a bit late. I had a harder time tracking down Karkat than I anticipated." He gives you an entirely unsubtle wink.

You nod like that is exactly something you expected to hear and glance over at the guy – Karkat. He looks just as confused as you feel. But you can just _feel_ the mounting levels of pissed starting to build up in him. The professor ushers you both into his office.

"Okay, so I was thinking last night, and I believe I came up with a solution that can work for both of you," he says as he drops into his chair. He props his feet up on his desk as the two of you sink into the chairs opposite of him. "I'm going to have the two of you work together on a project separate from the rest of the class."

"What the fuck." Karkat's voice is just as sharp as the previous day's. Clearly, he still hasn't gotten his sleep in yet. "How is that a solution? What can _possibly_ be a project relevant to both of us? Please tell me. My curiosity is _bursting_ to know."

You roll your eyes behind your shades as the professor does the same behind his own glasses. Still, the guy has a point. He's got four years on you.

"You need more collaboration practice," the professor replies simply. "And if you would let me finish, I'll explain how this will work. I promise you there will be more in it for you than repeating a freshmen project. Now. Dave." You remain impassive as he turns towards you. "I'm going to try to keep the course as close to the syllabus for you as I can yet, but I'll have you work more independently on the projects. The idea for this class is to hash out a few solid scripts, get them edited, and get a clip of them recorded as a sample. It'll be a little tougher since you'll be writing drafts mostly on your own, so if we need to, we can always drop a project later if it comes to that."

You nod. Sounds fair enough. "And Smiley over here comes in where?" Your mouth twitches in amusement at the scowl you get from Karkat and the laugh you get out of the professor.

The prof turns his attention back to Karkat. "Alright. Karkat, I'm going to have you help Dave bounce ideas around, like he'd be able to do with another partner, but-"

"So I'm playing babysitter," Karkat growls.

" _But_ ," the professor continues, "The main thing I'll have you focus on is editing and critiquing Dave's work. You're right that scriptwriting isn't relevant to you since you're emphasizing in reviews. But, as I'm sure you're more than aware, critiquing is a huge part of review writing and editorial works. I'll be having you submit your edits to me, as well as Dave, and have you work on your own project. You'll be treating this as an extended review. Sound fair?"

Karkat slumps in his chair. "Fine."

"Everything sound good to you, too?" the professor asks you. You nod, lips a little tight. "Good! I'll send you both emails sometime in the next couple days with details on what I'd like to see from you. For now, I suggest you exchange contact info and pick some meeting times. I won't expect you to meet up at regular class times, but I'd like you to meet up at least twice a week instead." He drops his feet back to the floor and motions to the door. "And with that, I wish you both luck."

Karkat leaves first and the professor catches you before you exit.

"Oh, and Dave, feel free to let me know if you need anything. I'm here to help."

You still at the door, pinch your lips, nod. "'Kay. Thanks."

At first, you think that Karkat guy ditched you when you exit the office. You wander down the narrow hallway back out to the open lounge area to discover him plopped in one of the soft chairs with his arms crossed. You can't tell if it's an angry gesture or a defensive one. He certainly looks irritated, but you're beginning to wonder if he doesn't have a mad case of resting bitch face. Or perhaps he really does just have a stick up his ass.

"Yo," you say, walking over to stand over him. He grunts in response. "You, uh, you got Pesterchum, then?"

He nods, pulls out a pen from his bag beside him, and gestures for your arm. "I'll write my handle for you." You let him jot something down on your hand. "Message me later so I can add you. We can figure something out later; I've got to head to work soon."

"Sure," you say. "See ya later, then."

The sun is heavy and the air wet as you walk back to your apartment. You're glad you're done with class for the week. Exhaustion as thick as the air sets in as you reach your place. It's irritating, how thick everything feels here. Like the sky is dirty. At least the summers in Houston were dry.

You strip to your boxers and lie back on your bed. You'll Pester Karkat tomorrow. Probably your friends, too. For now, you'll relax. It was a long week. Pathetic how tired you are from it, though. Bro would kick your ass for being such a wuss.

A cluster of emotions burst deep in your gut. You suck in your breath, squeeze your eyes shut.

You focus your attention back on how much you hate this state and it's stupid weather.


	5. Chapter 5

**This is one of those parts where it will look a _lot_ better on A03. It kinda needs colored Pesterlogs to make a whole lotta sense, but I'll make do with what I got for now. Also, no typing quirk for Karkat, because I always felt they seemed out of place in Human AUs. Unless there's a specific reason any of the trolls would decide to use a quirk in a human setting, it just feels weird to me. And I'm fairly certain it would seem weird to anyone pestering them, too. :P**

* * *

 **-** turntechGodHead **[TG]** began pestering carcinoGeneticist **[CG] –-**

TG: yo  
TG: its your wonderful and handsome and incredibly talented partner here to bestow upon you the grace of my chumhandle  
TG: no don't worry  
TG: your lack of response is entirely understandable  
TG: it is only natural to tremble in dumbstruck awe by my presence  
CG: Please tell me you have some terrible parasite that has wormed its way through your ear and is disturbing major components to your cranial apparatus. It will be much less concerning to hear than the alternative.  
CG: That being that this is your actual personality.  
TG: ah hell nah man you cant have red i type in red  
CG: And once again, I find myself praying to even the most secular of higher powers that your behavior is the result of some traumatic brain injury.  
CG: Because *surely* someone your age ought to possess enough maturity to not bitch over which color text someone has on fucking Pesterchum.  
CG: Oh wait, I'm sorry. Freshman. I forgot. Forgive me for my lack of understanding.  
TG: seriously man i can barely tell who said what  
TG: and i am physically incapable of dropping the red its like the color of my soul  
TG: my terribly immature freshmen soul **  
**CG: Jesus Christ. **  
CG: Here. Satisfied?  
** TG: ahahaha dude you picked grey youre totally sulking arent you **  
CG: Well, you seem to be busy shoving your dick up your own ass.  
CG: I'll go ahead and leave you to go finish that activity on your own.  
**TG: whoa whoa aight man take a chill pill  
TG: we need to figure out when/where we wanna meet for this thing **  
CG: Ugh, I don't care.  
CG: There's a little lounge near the edge of campus that's not super awful. We could meet there. Meet me at the library and I'll show you where it is.  
**TG: yeah okay that sounds good  
TG: T/Hs alright for time?  
TG: we could just meet when the class normally is **  
CG: Sure, whatever.  
CG: But in all actuality, I need to go. See you then.**

 **-** carcinoGeneticist **[CG]** ceased pestering turntechGodhead **[TG] –-**

* * *

"I thought we were just gunna meet at some café by campus," you say, voice flat and totally not betraying the mounting horror growing deep in your intestines. The car in front of you is practically taunting you, glaring this godawful tacky red. Fugliest car you've ever seen. Like you can't get over how shitty of red it is. You feel personally betrayed that the color red could look so bad. There's even rust. Everywhere. And where there's not rust there's more rust.

Karkat snorts beside you as he shoves a hand in one of his pockets, rummaging for his keys. "It was a fucking _fantastic_ plan until I realized it's Happy Hour. As much as I enjoy getting trampled by pretentious hipsters, I didn't think it would be all that conducive to a learning environment."

"Seriously, man, I am not getting into that deathtrap," you say, quickly, nearly cutting off his last word. Your mouth is too dry when you swallow. You did not sign up for a fucking car ride. You try to focus on how offensively ugly this monster is, rather than how tight your ribs are. "It's like - what's that phrase? _Social fucking suicide_ to get in that atrocity."

"Oh, get over yourself," Karkat bites back, but there's no real hostility in his expression other than his permanent annoyance. You're getting the feeling everything he does has an essence of aggression that may or may not actually exist. "You can survive one ride in my shitstain of a vehicle. You're a college student. Shitty cars come with the territory."

You don't actually care how shitty the car is. But you're still not getting in the car.

You've only been in a car a few times since Bro…since you were in that accident last spring. Your stomach clenches, makes you shift your weight. A ray of sunlight reflects off Karkat's car into your eyes. The way your retinas sting despite the protection from your shades is a welcome source of annoyance.

"True as that may be, sweaty hipsters are also a part of the college experience. It might be a terrible battle but I think we'll survive if we lay low in the protective corners of the café."

Karkat gives you a long, level look, keys pulled halfway out of his pocket. His mouth is pulled all tight and his eyebrows as low as ever, but for all that he's emotive as fuck you still can't read his expression. His eyelids flicker before he lets out a longsuffering sigh, stuffs his keys back in his pocket.

"Fine," he says. "If you're going to throw a fit about it, we can stay on campus. But let's at least go find a lounge somewhere that isn't crawling with beanie hats."

You try not to let your shoulders visibly sag in relief. But as Karkat turns to walk back towards campus, your intestines twist. He dropped the issue faster than you expected. He probably registered _something_ was up. Shame burns under your skin, but you ignore it, pass it off as the thick heat in the air.

It was nothing, and it means nothing. Stop looking into every goddamn thing. Your life isn't the center of the world – it's not like people actually notice that shit.

* * *

The two of you end up in some little lounge in the English building, sitting under the air conditioner and bitching about the weather more than actually making any progress on your project. You get the feeling doing so is some sort of Minnesotan rite of passage. You couldn't think of anything to brainstorm for the project anyway.

You'd thought about bringing up SBAHJ and doing something off that, but considering your horrid writer's block with it lately, you figured it'd be a pointless venture.

You feel agitated when you get back to your apartment that night. Can't sit still and veins buzzing unpleasantly. There's a weak attempt at homework before you realize you'll never be able to focus. You pester John to distract yourself instead, let him ramble about biology and some dumb movie club he joined while you move from your desk to your bed, back to your desk, to the bathroom, and back to your bed again. You might be beginning to resent renting an Efficiency. You can't even go to the roof.

Cold emotion ripples through you.

If only you weren't so restless. You'd just go back to sleep.

But getting going again this past week has made it harder to disconnect. Harder to ignore and harder to sleep. You're eating more again at least, but you don't really have an appetite. Just the act of it calms your nerves.

You dig through your cupboards for a new bag of Doritos, and you're inexplicably reminded of this time when you were five, on your tip toes reaching for some Doritos bro left on the counter, accidentally knocking the whole bowl to the floor. The thing had shattered, you'd jumped back and accidentally stepped on a shard of ceramic. You remember trying not to panic with the thing stuck in your foot, but crying anyway when Bro came in to see what happened. You'd thought he'd yell, but he just scooped you up and brought you to the bathroom, telling you how brave you were as he pulled the shard out.

The memory is like a punch to the gut and you recoil from the cupboard, nearly spilling the whole bag out over the floor. Pain hits you in a way that feels more like panic, your lungs seizing as you back against the wall behind you.

Fuck. Breathe. Just, fuck.

You're so pathetic. Jesus.

You force yourself to take a slow, shaky breath. Will the emotion away, force the memory down. You're fine. It's fine. You're being stupid. Freaking out over fucking _Doritos_ – Bro would laugh in your face.

Your throat feels sticky when you swallow, your tongue tastes sour. You move to grab a box of apple juice from your fridge.

You feel substantially calmer once you suck the little box dry. You crumple it and toss it half-hazardly at the trash by your desk. You miss completely but don't bother picking it up.

Instead, you grab your keys and go for a walk.

You walk aimless circles in the few blocks around your apartment, barely even registering the city around you. By time you head back to your place, it's dark, and you go to bed without bothering to take off anything other than your shoes.

You have a fucked up dream about red cars and red roads and triangular potato chips stuck in your feet.


End file.
